Lessons from disappointments

The day after the release of the 1998 national primary school examination results brought a noteworthy transformation in the atmosphere in our house. The ululations from my mother, aunts and sister rented the air in our quiet neighbourhood. I had passed my exams with flying colours. I had also emerged the top student in my school. I was elated. The aura of mirth and gladness in our home could be felt by all and sundry. Our neighbours felt it, my relatives saw it and the visitors in our neighbourhood got a taste of it! Excelling in the national exam was a significant cog in the wheel of my budding life as a thirteen year old. A good grade at primary school was a yardstick of success – at that time. It meant that I was assured of enrolment at a good secondary school and a good university from where I would pursue further studies in readiness for a career in science. I had made my family proud. The blood, sweat and tears that I invested in the strenuous eight years of my primary education had paid off.

No sooner had I reveled in my new-found joy than the first tincture of disappointment came. I failed to secure an admission to my dream secondary school. I was devastated. I sobbed uncontrollably whenever our incessant efforts to contact the school and the officials who are responsible for admissions failed to bear tangible results. My world came to a standstill. I could not bear it anymore. Where is my admission letter? I constantly asked anyone who dared to listen to me. I waited. One week, two weeks, three weeks. No response. I could not bear it anymore. Tired of waiting, I gathered my courage and requested my father to take me to the school. I wanted to seek an audience with the principal. Enough was enough. I wanted to know why I had not been selected for admission yet I had met their requirements.

A disappointed person (Source: Google)

The 20-minute drive from our house to the school seemed like eternity. The state of my being hovered from pain, nervousness, and confusion. I could not understand how I had failed to secure an admission. I was bewildered. We arrived at the school to be welcomed by a tall burly mean-looking security guard. My father and I walked past the old rusty squeaky gate after a thorough vetting by the guard. I felt like I had gone for a visa interview at the US embassy! We were finally ushered into the school. We carefully followed the signage that led to the principal’s office. We walked gingerly along the long, narrow and dimly-lit corridor that led to the principal’s office. A jovial old woman who served as a secretary ushered us in to the principal’s office. My father and I exchanged greetings with the principal and sat. My father, in his usually calm and collected demeanour, presented our predicament to the principal. I was pensive. I followed the ensuing discussion that transpired with the keenness of a rocket scientist. After presenting his case – my father took the results script from a big brown envelope and handed it to the principal. After a series of discussions, phone calls and endless trips to the secretary; we were informed that I would not be admitted. My mind went blank. What had I heard? A myriad of endless questions and thoughts flowed through my mind. What was the use of working so hard only to fail to get the ultimate prize?

I reluctantly left the office more disappointed and dejected than I had entered. I sobbed uncontrollably. I could not believe what I heard. It seemed like all the hard work that I had put into study had gone up into smoke. How could this happen to me? Will I go to a good secondary school? Will I even qualify for university to study towards my career?

Hardly had we left the principal’s office than I felt my father’s soft and gentle hands tap my shoulder. I stopped. He looked at me straight in the eye and with a gentle smile said, “My son, do not worry. When one door closes, another one opens. It will be well.” These were the most reassuring words that my father ever said. I left that school vowing that I will make it to university and pursue my career no matter what may come. It is exactly 19 years and three month since my great disappointment. I have achieved all I wanted in terms of career and education, albeit through a different route. True to my late father’s words, many doors of opportunity opened when that one door closed.

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the big world of disappointment. Disappointment is a feeling of dissatisfaction that follows the failure of expectations or hopes to manifest. It is uncomfortable, complex and is usually accompanied by a cocktail of other emotions like anger, hurt, frustration, stress and sadness. It may come in many forms. It affects everyone irrespective of age, status, colour and creed. Should disappointment result in gloom and doom whenever it rears its ugly head over us? My take is: IT SHOULD NOT.

Disappointment expressed mathematically (Source: Google)

Isn’t the fabric of life woven in the loom of disappointment?

• Didn’t Albert Einstein, a decorated researcher and Nobel laureate in Physics, fail an entrance exam to the Swiss Federal Polytechnic in Zurich? We use his equations and theories to understand natural phenomena. Landmarks and buildings have been named after him.
• Didn’t Alexander Graham Bell experience many setbacks over many years while inventing the telephone? The outcome of his disappointments has eased communication. The SI unit of sound is named after him!
• Wasn’t the engine that powered the inventions and business empires of Thomas Edison oiled by the disappointments of failed experiments and business deals?

Disappointment is a common thread that ties many great men and women in history. It is not an end. Thus, we ought not to let it dash our hopes, dreams and desires. Wherever you fall into the pit of disappointment, strive to seek that person who, like my father, will lift you up gently, dust off the dirt and encourage you to keep moving. Eliza Tabor Stephenson said, “Disappointment to a noble soul is what cold water is to a burning metal; it strengthens, tempers, intensifies but never destroys it.”